


Let Them Eat Cake

by Fiery_archer_lav3nder_P1x1e



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1000 words, F/M, Fantasy, History, Original Character - Freeform, Original Story - Freeform, Original work - Freeform, Queens, Saints, Snippet, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 09:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18427781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiery_archer_lav3nder_P1x1e/pseuds/Fiery_archer_lav3nder_P1x1e
Summary: This is the first 1000 + words of a book I am writing.  I took certain historical figures and am bringing them back into the world.  This may be a book eventually, but I would like to actually make it a musical.  This is completely original, so I'm really terrified of putting it anywhere online.  I don't want to give too much away here because I fear being a victim of stolen ideas.





	Let Them Eat Cake

**Author's Note:**

> For those who read this because you've read my fandom pieces, I would really really appreciate some heart-to-heart constructive comments because I would theoretically like to submit this for contests or manuscripts. And yes, I will be returning to my fandom works, but I am now 27 and still living at home and I would really like to be able to be a writer for work as opposed to working in retail (not that I don't totally appreciate any sort of paycheck, cause I do). This, working on this piece, is me putting in time trying to take a step toward my dream of being a professional writer. I write this by hand and then just started to transcribe it onto my computer; I try to write at least a page a day, but I am also working and human. so here goes nothing....

It’s a cold, gray city; like so many typical cities, ones that live on and those that have fallen, with towering buildings and bridges stretching through the sky. Even the rays of bright sunlight that cut through the steel and glass edifices is so pale it lacks the warmth typical of the star. The towers and skyscrapers that cut across the ice white sky are dulled as their outlines are over taken as they melt into gray around them. 

As the skyline fades, the street below comes into view; black and white store fronts for bodegas, cafes, and dry cleaners passed by as a slow mist crawls into the empty street. There’s the soft murmur of chit-chat from the faceless silhouettes of the people in the storefronts, the cold glass making the sound echo. 

The voices quiet a bit as the mist thickens and a new sound shatters the monotony. The sound of high heels on the ground draws the eye to the mist in the street where a silver silhouette emerges. The sound persists as the form of a lady comes into view. 

“You would think after all these years people would get tired of talking about the same stale gossip topics.”

As she emerges from the mist, something becomes apparent, that she’s not your typical metropolitan woman. She’s not as tall as a leggy model, even with her dainty, tiny steps in her heels. What gives her the illusion of height is a coif of ice blonde curls that sits on top of her sharply cut face. Her angular features are chilled even further by her ice blue eyes. But it is her blue floor-length gown with the ample waggle of a hoop skirt beneath it. 

She stops and throws her hip out, a tight fist coming to sit on it, as she peers into the cafe. “Always the same thing,” she sighs dramatically. “The latest sex scandal, where did so-and-so’s money go, who is the bitch of the week, and whose relationship is falling to shit.” Her other hand comes up to gently caress the glass of the window. 

“You would think that things would have progressed after a couple of hundred years.” The backs of her fingers tapped gently against the glass. 

A group of three teenage girls open the cafe door a few feet away from her. All three are dressed in black, white, and gray with blended coffee drinks in hand and book bags slung over their shoulders. They appear to be talking or maybe laughing, but no sound can be heard. the mysterious blonde in the strange blue ballgown takes a step towards the group with a tinkling giggle. 

“I bet they wouldn’t even know my name.” she says drily as the children continue to loiter in front of the cafe. 

There’s a hollow dark laugh that rumbles through the street and another form materializes within the mist at the end of the street. An elegant dark shape, clearly of a taller woman. As she emerges, she brushes a strand of dark hair behind her ear. Her are eyes are nearly black as she closes her slender arms over her chest. 

I helped form a new religion little girl,” she says to the blonde, her voice sour. “If they don’t know me, they certainly won’t know you.”

The blonde turns to glare at the interloper, the group of teens behind her now. This woman is dressed in a ballgown of her own, made of purple velvet with old embroidery. She narrows her eyes at the familiar woman. 

“Feeling a little unloved Anne?” The blonde asks in a condescending tone. 

“You know your petty barbs don’t get to me Marie. They show your age dear.”

Marie scoffs and pulls a face. “You know, you need some new material Anne. This whole “child bride” routine is not amusing.”

Anne takes a step closer to the young blonde. She’s clearly taller, and with her long hair in a thick plait over her shoulder, her movements appear almost predatory. She lifts her chin, showing off her lovely, long, pale neck. But the smile that tightens Anne’s face is anything but sincere. 

“Oh, you poor little thing,” Anne croons mockingly as she takes another step toward Marie. “We were all child brides, so you’re nothing special.”

Marie rolled her eyes. “Don’t act as if you’re so high and mighty. You do remember that we both had our heads loped off, don’t you?” Anne’s only reactions is to take another stride forward. “And let’s not forget that at least my husband didn’t send me to my death because he wanted to bed another woman.”

That was what froze Anne’s assault; she stopped cold, not taking her next step. She stared in icy silence at Marie. 

They glare at one another silently, daring the other to make the next move. It was the sharp clang of metal against metal that jarred them both. With the oblivious gaggle of gray-scale teens forgotten behind them, Anne and Marie turn toward the source of the noise. 

“You’re both far too whiny,” an angelic voice came through the mist, but the sound of metal grating also echoes about the street. “These girls have not sense of history and instead of being upset at them for letting your names fade, you're standing here tearing each other apart.” The auburn beauty who emerged from the mist was clad in shining chainmail. 

“Oh shut up you holier-than-thou freak show,” Anne growled at the new arrival. “There’s no room for a witch in this conversation…Jean.” the name dripping from her mouth in mockery. 

The blonde giggles in derision. “Jean, really? I think you’ve got her confused with…”

Anne made a noise in the back of her throat. “And you call yourself French. Stupid girl.”

“Above all else I am Austrian,” Marie said snidely. “Surprised you didn’t know that already - All-knowing Anne Boleyn.”

The energy between the blonde and brunette crackled. “Well I surely know a lot more than you - Marie Antoinette.”


End file.
